Wednesday, May 25, 2011

The Cat's Out of the Bag

Makeup is illusion.  It is the mask with which women (and some men) present a more ideal face to our adoring public.  Makeup can give us confidence that we are putting our best face forward, not our “I didn’t get nearly enough sleep last night” face,” or our “This is what I look like after a night of drinking” face,” or our “Blotchy skin and undereye circles run in my family” face.  And for many women, their hair speaks volumes, whether they use a volumizing conditioner or not.  Sleek and straight says one thing; curly and wild says another.  Sporty pigtail braids fall into a separate category than a headband or a scarf.  A perky, high ponytail sends a different message than a conservative, low ponytail.  In light of all of this, can someone out there please explain to me the rationale behind coming into work without your makeup and hair done, then standing in the office bathroom for a half hour to do it?

The only explanation I have heard which makes any sense is that it saves the woman some time in the morning to get ready.  While I am wholeheartedly in favour of finding any reasonable way to get an extra half hour of sleep, and I will readily admit that I go through a daily post-alarm assessment of things I can do which would allow me to hit the snooze just one more time, this “method” just seems unethical: why should your employer have to pay for you to make yourself presentable?  Because, let’s "face" it, that’s precisely what is happening, ladies!  Think about it.  You are being paid by your employer for your time at work.  And you are taking that time – time that should, at least in theory, be spent working – to get ready... time that your fellow co-workers who came to work already made up are spending doing the business of the day!  Did you come to your job interview without your hair and makeup done, then proceed to put the finishing touches on while exchanging pleasantries and providing more detail about your experience?  If you didn’t, then I think it’s fair to say that your employer reasonably expects you to show up for work with all of that prep work done already.  I mean, you wouldn’t show up to work in your pajamas and then get dressed in the bathroom, would you?  Isn’t it just a basic expectation that when you arrive at work, you are dressed and ready to go, and that you don’t need to spend the first half hour doing what should have been done at home in front of your own bathroom mirror?

Besides the myriad equitable arguments against this little “system,” we can’t ignore its biggest (in my view, its most fatal) flaw: by the time you get into work, get settled, perhaps take a conference call or two and eventually wander into the bathroom to put on your makeup and do your hair, people have already seen you in your “base” state.  Why bother?  It isn’t like you’re fooling anyone.  We’ve all seen you without the corrector and foundation to even out your skin tone.  We are aware that your eyelashes are thin and that your eyes don’t “pop” naturally.  We’ve seen your frizzy, bed-head hair (seriously, can you please just run a comb through it before you leave in the morning?).   And now we know what products you use, which for some reason, just seems like more information than I need to have about some of my colleagues.  In any case, we are not impressed with how fabulous you look when you (finally) walk out of the bathroom ready to shine, because we’ve seen your unfabulous, shineless head already.  

The cat’s out of the bag.  Don’t waste your time trying to stuff it back in.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

30 Day Song Challenge

Because I am an overachiever, I have completed the 30 Day Song Challenge in a single day.  You may now bow down before me and admire my extraordinary capabilities.

Day 01: Your favourite song (of all time):  Hotel California (Eagles)
Day 02: Your least favourite song:  Torn (Natalie Imbruglia)
Day 03: A song that makes you happy:  Blame It On the Boogie (Jackson 5)
Day 04: A song that makes you sad:  My Immortal (Evanescence)
Day 05: A song that reminds you of someone:  In Your Eyes (Peter Gabriel)
Day 06: A song that reminds of you of somewhere:  Please Don’t Go (Rick Astley)
Day 07: A song that reminds you of a certain event:  Wonderful Tonight (Eric Clapton)
Day 08: A song that you know all the words to:  Ice Ice Baby (Vanilla Ice)
Day 09: A song that you can dance to:  Hold It Against Me (Britney Spears)
Day 10: A song that makes you fall asleep:  Anything from the Chant album (Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos)
Day 11: A song from your favourite band:  April 26, 1992 (Sublime)
Day 12: A song from a band you hate:  Doll Parts (Hole) 
Day 13: A song that is a guilty pleasure:  Take It Off (Ke$ha)
Day 14: A song that no one would expect you to love:  Cowboy (Kid Rock)
Day 15: A song that describes you:  Bitch (Meredith Brooks)
Day 16: A song that you used to love but now hate:  Everything I Do (I Do It For You) (Bryan Adams)
Day 17: A song that you hear often on the radio:  Judas (Lady Gaga)
Day 18: A song that you wish you heard on the radio:  Tonight Tonight (Hot Chelle Rae)
Day 19: A song from your favorite album:  Santeria (Sublime)
Day 20: A song that you listen to when you’re angry:  You Oughta Know (Alanis Morissette)
Day 21: A song that you listen to when you’re happy:  Like a G6 (Far East Movement)
Day 22: A song that you listen to when you’re sad:  Call and Answer (Barenaked Ladies)
Day 23: A song that you want to play at your wedding:  Just the Way You Are (Bruno Mars)
Day 24: A song that you want to play at your funeral:  Ripple / Brokedown Palace (Grateful Dead)
Day 25: A song that makes you laugh:  Fuck You (Cee Lo Green)
Day 26: A song that you can play on an instrument:  Fur Elise (Beethoven)
Day 27: A song that you wish you could play:  Hungarian Rhapsody (Liszt)
Day 28: A song that makes you feel guilty:  Criminal (Fiona Apple)
Day 29: A song from your childhood:  Yellow Submarine (Beatles)
Day 30: Your favourite song at this time last year:  I Like It (Enrique Iglesias)

One free candy bar (winner's choice!) to anyone who can answer all of the following questions about my list (guesses are welcome in the comments section):
  • Who am I reminded of in the Day 5 song?
  • You'll notice Sublime is on the list twice; what is my favourite Sublime song of all time?
  • What place am I thinking of when I hear the Day 6 song?
  • What event do I recall when I hear Day 7?
  • What song on this list is the only song that I danced to at my senior prom?
  • Of the following groups/bands from the list, which one have I NOT seen live:  Hole, Alanis Morissette, Barenaked Ladies, Sublime


Tuesday, May 10, 2011

An epiphany

This Sunday, I awoke to the pitter patter of Nate's little feet running down the hall in his excitement to tell me it was time to make our Mother's Day brownies.  I opened my cards and gifts (flowers and a gift card for Caribou from Nate, so we can stop there on the way to the day care - guilt-free! - for hot chocolate and coffee), then after putting the brownies in the oven, kicked around the house until it was time to get ready for my "official" Mother's Day treat: a sojourn at the Woodhouse Spa for "aroma bath ritual," to be followed by a 50 minute massage.  Aromatic oils, flower petals, soothing music, a massage... what more could you ask for, right?

Well...

So there I was, in my white bathrobe and spa sandals, sipping a glass of ice water and all ready to relax.  My masseuse came in to greet me and led me back to the aroma bath ritual room (which sounds a lot scarier than it actually is... I'm pretty sure there have not been any ritual sacrifices or anything in there, but then again, I didn't ask).  We walked into the room, past the privacy screen, and voila!  There was a lovely old-school soaker tub, already filled with fragrant hot water and flower petals.  My masseuse explained how things would go (I was to get in the tub, relax, and then after about twenty minutes, he'd check on me to make sure I'm not dead and give me a five minute warning to get out and onto the massage table for part two of my decadent Mother's Day aroma bath massage session), then quietly slipped out of the room.  And this is where the wheels started to fall off.

I stood there, looking at the flower petals floating in the water, and couldn't help but think that this is exactly the type of tub they had at Tao.  My tub had less flower petals, but basically, it was the same thing.  Tub.  Check.  Water.  Check.  Flower petals.  Check.  Hot semi-naked girl?  Hmm.  I was a little giddy about the prospect of pretending to be a gorgeous, glammed-up tub-sitting girl for a little while, and dipped my toe into the water.  It was a little hot for my taste, but it's all part of the Tao - I mean, Woodhouse - experience.  I eased myself into the tub, and came face to face with a harsh reality: I am too damn tall.

It's not that I was too tall for the tub.  No, even the tallest of the tall can smoosh into a bathtub one way or another, and quite honestly, this one was pretty deep.  Rather, I realized that I am too tall to have successfully sat in a bathtub at Tao (or anyplace else) with flower petals covering my girl parts without basically lying down.

Had I simply come to this realization and moved on with my life, the next fifteen minutes might have been more enjoyable, or even mildly relaxing.  Instead, I spent the whole time squinching this way and that, moving the flower petals here and there, adding water to see whether that might help (it did cool the temperature down, which was helpful, albeit in a totally different way), trying to find at least one coquettish-yet-mostly-covered position that might look even remotely attractive to an outside observer.  Nothing worked.  And worse yet, I discovered that my boobs are not big enough to get the flower petals to "stick" at my bustline the way the Tao girls' boobs did, which, if memory serves, was how they were able to sit up in the tub themselves.  No... the petals just floated sadly around the surface, fruitlessly searching for something to land on.  I even sat up and tried to stick the flower petals directly onto my skin to see if that might help.  It didn't.  I either needed more flower petals, more boobs, or both.  Or maybe waterproof glue.  But definitely something.

When my masseuse knocked on the door to give me the five minute warning, I could barely contain my relief.  And that was when I had my second epiphany of the day: there are probably lots of reasons why I never got a career as a tub girl at Tao (or any other club) off the ground, and while it's a bit depressing in a vain, I'm-getting-old-and-that-really-sucks kind of way, that's really okay.  Tub sitting isn't for everyone, but then again neither is being a lawyer, or Nate's mommy, or, you know, an awesome like a possum Mother's Day goddess with a 50 minute massage ahead of her and homemade brownies waiting on the counter at home.